Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
I haven’t eaten anything since last night’s small soda and fries.
When Mary asks if I want a third piece of cake, I’m tempted to say yes, but I don’t want to embarrass myself. Without a word, Jonah disappears into the kitchen. He comes back a few minutes later holding a grilled cheese sandwich, which he sets in front of me.
I stare at the sandwich in disbelief. Somehow, Jonah saw through my pretenses without seeing through me. I can’t remember the last time someone made me dinner—I mean something just for me. Meals at the group home don’t count because they’re made for everybody. This stranger realized exactly what I needed, and then brought it to me, without me having to ask for it.
“Thanks, Jonah.” Mary shoots him a curious—but not disapproving—look and then turns to me. “Sorry about that, Teagan. I was so caught up worrying about the cake, I forgot to make sure you’d eaten.”
I take a tentative bite of the sandwich. The cheese is warm and gooey, the bread crisp on the outside yet still soft.
Mary asks Jonah about his work as I eat my dinner. I guess he’s in construction. Looking at the two of them, side by side, there’s no doubt that they’re related. They not only sport the same dark hair and olive-toned complexion, but also the same dark-green eyes.
When I’m finished eating, Mary suggests I head upstairs to settle in before she hits the road. She obviously wants to talk to Jonah in private. I leave them in the dining room, but don’t go far.
“I really appreciate you doing this,” she says quietly. “I know you were against the idea at first, but I think this could work out.”
“We’ll see,” Jonah says.
I flinch, though I have no reason to take his reluctance personally. Why should he be enthusiastic about some random girl coming to stay at his house? I’m nothing to him. Just a favor for his sister.
Whatever. As soon as my uncle’s ready to leave, I’ll be out of his hair, and his house, forever.
Since I’m not going to be staying long, I see no point in unpacking. But the one thing I desperately need is a shower. Having slept in my clothes, I feel grimy and probably smell awful. As I rifle through my bag for a pair of soft shorts and a clean tee shirt, Mary pops her head into the room.
“Hey,” she says. “How are you feeling?”
I shrug. She leans against the door frame, parking herself on the border of what has effectively become my space.
“The bed’s really comfy,” she says. “It used to belong to our grandma. When she died, Jonah and I divvied up her furniture. I let him keep the guest bed as long as he promised I could have it whenever I stayed over.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I don’t say anything.
“Feel free to call me anytime. If you need any groceries or toiletries, ask Jonah. He’ll be happy to help you.”
I nod, not trying very hard to hide my skepticism.
Once again, I can tell Mary wants to hug me, but she keeps her distance. She says goodnight, then leaves, and I follow ten steps behind her. At the top of the stairs, I listen as she thanks her brother again for letting me stay. Once she’s gone, I find clean towels in the closet, where Jonah said they’d be, then shut myself in the bathroom.
Stepping under the spray of the rain-head shower, I can’t help the soft moan that pours from my lips like air seeping out of a life raft. The water pressure in the group home shower was barely a trickle.
My hands glide over my body, spreading the lavender-scented soap across my skin. I linger over sensitive areas, like my chest and the back of my neck. Against my will, my mind drifts back to the man who owns this shower. He probably picked out this soap, and the luxurious shampoo and conditioner. To think that the products he chose are now lathered all over my body sends a warm shiver down my spine.
I don’t get crushes. I don’t date and I don’t hook up. But for some reason, I can’t stop thinking about how big and handsome Jonah is. You’d think knowing he doesn’t want me here would make a difference, but it doesn’t.
The fact that he’s old enough to be my dad doesn’t bother me either.
I like that he’s sturdy and solid, like his house. He walks with a slight limp, one I might’ve missed had I not been paying such close attention. I wonder how he got it. I almost care enough to ask—and I never ask. I learned the hard way that it’s best to keep your head down in a new environment, at least until you know where you stand.